


Pray the Blades of Grass to Find Forgiveness in the Weeds

by HankTalking



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Blood and Violence, Crossfaction, Other, Unhealthy Relationships, nonbinary Pyro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:00:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28022811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HankTalking/pseuds/HankTalking
Summary: After matches, Pyro finds ways to amuse themself.
Relationships: Pyro/Spy (Team Fortress 2)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	Pray the Blades of Grass to Find Forgiveness in the Weeds

The barn was now all creaky, pretty-colorful-in-bits, and Pyro knew distantly that was a good thing for BLU. It was already their personal opinion that anything pretty-colorful-in-bits was a good thing, they thought as light streaked up edges of red wood, but it was nice to know their teammates agreed. The cozy blue bomb with a couple silly faces painted on had fallen down the hole, and then the barn had exploded, and then everyone slapped each other’s back and told each other ‘good work’.

That’s how Pyro knew it was ‘Not’ time. They could still jiggle the trigger of their flamethrower in happy little puffs, but during Not time they had to Not run so much and Not set walls on fire and Not go chase down their RED friends even though they could _see_ them heading back to their own base. It didn’t seem fair to Pyro, but Engie had explained it again and again that when the match was over they had to Not.

Life at BLU was filled with a lot of Not. Not sharing fire was the first and hardest lesson to learn, which had been taught by Heavy getting fed up and sending them to the dead-place. Twenty-six times. They got the picture after that. Sure BLU had blathered out some in their contract against burning teammates, but Pyro had assumed that was more of a suggestion, like, they couldn’t really be _serious_ about that, could they?

Apparently they were, as were their new mercs, who didn’t _get_ fire no matter how much Pyro tried to enlighten them. Oh well. Some people couldn’t be helped.

The only time Pyro was allowed to burn BLUs was when they weren’t _really_ BLUs, so it didn’t count anyway. Just a bunch of Spies, Spies for chasing, Spies hitting, Spies for shooting, all just Spies Spies Spies Spies…

They tilted their head.

The RED Spy was squirming about under a chunk of metal roofing, deposited there by the barn’s final destruction. The noises were all odd, not identifiable as the squeals of delight Pyro pulled out of him, more squawkish and full of words Pyro thought they should cover their ears for. At the sight of him, their heart swelled. Finally! They’d spent nearly all match in the dead-place and were longing for someone to play with.

Spy was obviously excited to see them too, as his eyes grew wide at their approach. “ _Merde_ ,” Spy hissed as he tugged more frantically at his pinned arm.

Pyro sprinted full charge with an excited cry, but something nagged them hard in the back of their mind. It was like a hot poker, all annoying and in a place Pyro would rather just ignore, sort of like how Engie made them feel a lot of the time. They tried to disregard it at first, but halfway to the Spy their velocity died out, and instead they scuffled to a dragging stop as the poker reminded them it was Not time and that they should have headed back to base twenty minutes ago.

The building was almost completely gone now. BLU’s victory here meant they’d be heading to a new base soon, as there couldn’t be much of a battle when the final point was in shambles, and RED and BLU would have to find another cool place to fight over. The chunk of former objective on Spy looked heavy, especially when his cute, skinny arms didn’t look like they could life much of anything.

Pyro stopped in front of him, their flamethrower hanging neglectfully as they looked over the Spy. They could see him breathing faster, swallowing as he tried in vain to kick off the hunk of metal.

He was probably disappointed. “ _No burning right now_ ,” Pyro tried to explain. “ _I want to but the rules say I can’t._ ”

This didn’t sooth him in the slightest, and not for the first time Pyro cursed how difficult other people could be. Even when others could pick out words through the mask, as Engie and Scout sometimes could, it was still like there was something blocking them from understanding anything that didn’t directly have something to do with them or theirs. It was immensely frustrating, especially when Pyro was trying to communicate something more complex.

“ _You_ ,” they pointed at Spy. “ _Can’t burn_.” They tapped the nozzle and shook their head.

Spy hesitated at that. He was still struggling, but not as fiercely, his eyes locked on the Pyro.

That thing didn’t look comfortable. Maybe if they helped him loose, he’d be more focused, and they might actually get through to him.

They approached, and saw Spy start struggling again out the corner of their optics. They ignored him, instead wrapping each hand around the lower bilge of the metal, the sharp edge threatening to cut right through their gloves.

It was heavier than their flamethrower for sure. They heaved, and the shard gave slightly as their arms trembled, rising as they focused on putting all the weight on their bent knees. It slid back down.

(The Spy whimpered.)

Definitely possible then. The second time they gave it everything they had, actually letting out a strained gurgle that turned into a full groan as they hauled the roofing up the necessary inches. Spy darted free before they even realized they’d done it.

They let it drop back to the ground and looked at Spy. He was standing there, holding a hand against his limp shoulder as his eyes bored into the Pyro, chest heaving as something unreadable unfolded on his face. Then he turned and winked out of existence.

“ _Wait_!” Pyro called. “ _Aw…_ ” It was too late. With their flamethrower on the ground, they couldn’t have even followed him if they wanted to.

Wearing their disappointment heavily, they gathered their weapons and lumbered back to base.

* * *

A little thing got into the back of their head after that. Not annoying like the poker, but a new thing, a thing that could be exciting.

The thing was, the more Pyro played with people, the faster they used them up. Sure they could stick the business end of their flamethrower against a dead-place RED and torch them all day, but it was never as fun when they weren’t twitching around in glee. When Pyro snuck up on a bunch of REDs capping the point and burned through them all less than ten seconds, Demo would clap them on the back and compliment them on their combo. Their teammates liked when they were succinct, but Pyro didn’t. Efficiency wasn’t fun. Efficiency was over too damn fast.

So Pyro had a new strategy they wanted to try. They forwent their flamethrower in most situations, save a little spurt at the beginning to make their friends gloriously shine, and then tried to tease them for as long as possible. Sometimes a shotgun in places they knew would take a long time to be fatal, sometimes a few airblasts until they were away from the other REDs, giggling as Pyro made sure they couldn’t leave. Their favorite new tecneque was to break one of Spy’s legs with their sledgehammer, then track him through Steel’s winding halls as he left trails of blood in his invisible wake. Pyro had heard of dogs who did things like that. For days even. Certainly they knew how to live best lives.

It was turning out well! Of course it wasn’t as “efficient,” but Engie stopped complaining when he realized that Spy was actually getting _less_ bold, not more. That was too bad. Pyro had been enjoying their new activates together.

During Not time they still went and looked for him, waving and crouching down next to him if they found him bleeding out. Spy would always yell at them, but they didn’t mind. BLU Soldier yelled a lot too, and he was still Pyro’s friend.

Of course the preferable occasions were when burning was still on the table. It was fun to find Spy after a long hunt, listening to his cute little gurgles as Pyro brought the sledgehammer down on his chest again and again.

Not that Pyro didn’t find every member of RED adorable, but the Spy was a special case. Something about the roundness of his mask made him look like a plump gumdrop, and he always snorted when laughed in that funny way of his.

(The laugh was usually when he’d shot Pyro in the throat and had left them to asphyxiate in their own blood.)

Oh, and his hands! His hands were so beautiful. Pyro would touch them sometimes, lift them up and examine them when Spy was in the dead-place or on his way there. They were gloved, like Pyro’s, but where theirs were horribly bulky his were long and slender and full of grace. Pyro thought about his hands a lot.

They thought about Spy in general when they were lying awake at night, staring at the ceiling and fussing with the blankets. Spy made them feel weird things in their tummy, things they hadn’t felt since they were very very young and a voice from a distant memory told them they shouldn’t be touching their pillows like that.

It was a hot feeling. Not fire hot, but…water hot. Bubbling, boiling water from when BLU Spy made spaghetti that one time and it looked so gooshey to touch that they’d stuck a hand in the pot up to their wrist. It had hurt even through the suit.

So that’s how the Spy left them, unable to sleep and they thought about his long fingers and the water-hot he had put in their tummy.

* * *

Stupid! Stupid, _stupid_ , was all they could think as they charged forward. Pyro hated that stupid ice pick.

A thing that got rid of fire was no good, but ones that made Engie a big block of stuff that was super boring to talk to were even worse in Pyro’s book. They snarled as they rounded the corner, straining their ears for any sign of a decloak.

It was dumb and unfair and when Pyro found Spy they were going smash it to pieces and then make it a puddle. It was mean was what it was, that Spy would use something like that when all Pyro ever did for him was share their fire. Why would he turn against them like this?

Steel’s hallways continued to be vacant, too many which-ways for the Spy to have gone. It was rare Pyro ever truly got angry, but this was a real kicker, and now they were alone and a failure.

They were about to turn back when they heard a faint noise. They perked, trotting toward what they hoped was a clue-

And tripped violently over something invisible.

It knocked them off balance enough that their flamethrower went skidding, a hand around its hose helping to remove it from Pyro’s grip. They tried to roll around, but as soon as they did something heavy landed on their chest, and a knife appeared at their throat.

“ _Hey!_ ” they complained. “ _You can’t have two knives! That’s cheating!_ ”

“Shut _up!_ ” Spy yelled, forcing the balisong closer to their neck as he straddled their stomach. “Just shut up you mumbling _lunatic!_ ”

There was something weird with the voice, warbled and high pitched. He sounded desperate, sort of like when he would call for Medic only far more raspy. The knife would have no trouble piecing their suit, it never had before, so they didn’t move as Spy had at them in all his furry.

“I have had enough,” he growled. “It has been weeks now that I cannot get a moment’s peace, _not even when I shoot you_ you freakish _abomination_. I demand answers!”

As far as Pyro could tell he hadn’t asked a question. They shrugged.

He took the hand not shaking around the knife and grabbed their mask, lifting it up and slamming their hand backwards against the concrete. “What games are you playing? I cannot _sleep_ —do you know how embarrassing that is? The men who customarily haunt my nightmares usually have IQs above 70! You are a pathetic excuse for an enemy and I will not stand for it.”

“ _You keep me awake at night too…_ ” they said, a little breathlessly. Perhaps in part due to the damage done to their skull, but that certainly wasn’t the only reason.

Spy bared his teeth. “Speak plainly you idiot! _Why_ _are you so obsessed with me?_ ”

“ _Well…you’re…um…_ ” They suddenly found themself horribly tongue-tied. “ _Very cute. And I like you a lot._ ”

If Spy’s expression was anything to go by, it didn’t matter if they were tongue-tied or not, the result would be the same. They’d have to try a different tactic.

Cautiously, they reached up, hesitating when Spy reared back. But when he didn’t move further, they let their hand keep going, watching Spy watch them as their fingers found the front of his suit. With a little digging, they untucked his tie from his jacket.

They were always amazed that it stayed pinned in place even through all the fighting and running and stabbing he got into on the day-to-day. Even still, it came loose easily under their fingers. They had an admiration for the tie. It was such an adorable, dapper little detail, much like everything else about the Spy.

The man himself observed with abject curiosity. Or barely restrained horror.

They ran the tie between two of their fingers, from neck to tip, flicking the end a bit with their thumb, tugging slightly like they’d seen in a movie once. Then, they ran back up it, glove crossing the threshold of his collar.

He tensed. However, they didn’t stop around his neck, not like the time they’d held him underwater in the 2Fort sewers until his legs stopped kicking. Instead, their hand reached his face, smoothing out the wrinkles in his mask.

Spy had such nice cheekbones. They were so sharp, clearly identifiable through the ski mask and solid as Pyro brushed their thumb over them.

“ _Cute_ ,” they repeated.

This time, they were sure Spy understood. His mouth was open slightly, the way it was when he blew out smoke from his cigarette, that perfect little o. Pyro had never understood smoking. They didn’t get their teammates fascination with it, how they could stand to keep their flames so small.

Spy rose up off their chest and disappeared.

The got dazedly to their feet. Had that been wrong again? They liked chasing him, but that moment had felt more stay-put-y, like the ones they sometimes got out of Spy during Not time. Maybe Spy didn’t know he was cute. Maybe they’d spooked him.

“Huh,” Engie said as they arrived at the nest, just getting back himself. The sentry remained unsapped. “You got him then?”

They rubbed the back of their neck and looked off down the hall. “ _In a sense._ ”

Engie noticed their odd mood but didn’t comment. Instead, he took one finger gently pushed the ice statue of himself into E’s pit.

* * *

“So,” Spy said.

They jumped. Spy never sought them out, not even during Not time, but now he was very very close, closer than he’d ever willingly come before as ambushed them in the brown grasses outside B. They’d just been heading back to nap off terrible day’s loss, but now that Spy was in front of them sleep suddenly didn’t seem so important.

“ _Hi Spy_ ,” they said ineptly. “ _Um. I won’t burn you right now._ ”

His eyes flicked down as they tapped their flamethrower. He seemed to get the message, or close enough.

At least they guessed he did, since he suddenly leaned over them, pressing his arm on the rock wall behind them as they craned their neck upward. “So,” he repeated. “There is something under that suit after all, _non?_ ”

“ _What?_ ” Pyro blinked. “ _Of course there is, it’s me. I’m under the suit._ ”

There was a long pause where Spy seemed to wonder if that was worth parsing. In the end he shrugged and said, “I will admit, this is not the strangest way I’ve been courted, nor even the most violet.”

“ _Courting?_ ” Is that what they were doing? It certainly felt like courting with Spy bowed over them like that and his handsome face inches from theirs. “ _…So….good things then?_ ”

Spy snorted. They liked that snorty laugh. “Yes, good things.” He smirked. “Though I can offer better things. If you are interested.”

They had no idea what better things could be, but if the pounding of their heart was anything to go by, the wanted to find out. They nodded enthusiastically.

“However,” he said. “I think it wise to establish some boundaries. It seems you have a habit of…mixing business with pleasure. I would like to know that you will not decide I look better on fire in the middle any strenuous relations we might have.”

“ _Not time._ ”

“…Not time.” He smirked. They liked the smirk too. His fingers tapped their flamethrower, mimicking Pyro’s earlier assurance. “No burn?”

“ _No burn._ ” They tugged on his sleeve where they knew the butterfly knife was hidden. “ _No stab._ ”

“Then we have an accordance,” he hummed.

His hand trailed the flamethrower up their arm, and suddenly he was cupping them under the chin. They just about melted into his palm, releasing a strangled purring noise they hadn’t realized they’d been keeping locked inside. When he withdrew, they keened at the loss, but only until they realized he had expected him to follow.

“I am waiting, _mon cher_ ,” he called over his shoulder.

Pyro wasted no time, picking up into an enthusiastic jog as they followed him around the corner.


End file.
